Champions of Lesser Fate
by The Grand Waffle
Summary: I believe you could call this a "what if" story. This takes it from the top, much like Rebuild does, but with the positions of several characters reversed. Concentrating on Proposition I for now, and this story could use some polishing, so hold tight.
1. Phase 00: Prologue

#The usual disclaimers, etc. This first "Chapter" is really just a short little collection of mini-vignettes that sets up the begining of the story. You may ignore it if you wish, but don't be surprised if you miss some crucial detail because of it. You probably won't, though.#

"Preparations for defense are nearly complete," Fuyutsuki reported. "The Third Child will arrive tomorrow via UN Private Transport, direct to GeoFront entrance fifteen. Section Two's surveillance indicates that she is apprehensive but still intends to comply with your order."

Gendo smirked. "Continue," he urged.

The Sub-Commander's eyes returned to the folder he was holding. "Unit 00's repairs are finished, but the First Child remains on medical leave. If he hadn't overridden the ejection sequence he might have faired better."

The bearded Commander's glasses glinted. "He was persistent in his attempts to subdue the beast. He was also victorious, though at great cost to his body."

"Admirable dedication," Fuyutsuki surmised.

"Indeed."

A page was flipped and a paper clip moved, and the old man pressed on. "Satellite weapons and warning systems are in place, weapons structures have all been completed, and Block D's shield system has been brought to full readiness, despite technical difficulties. The Magi uplink is now operating at peak efficiency, the Dummy Plug has undergone several successful simulation tests, and the Jet Alone Project has made great strides since the update the previous month. A very good move appealing to Seele for their 'acquisition', I might add."

"Yes," Gendo said. "One can never have enough cannon fodder. What still remains incomplete?" He braced for bad news.

Fuyutsuki moved to the last pages. "The EVA's Positron Rifle Targeting and Guidance System has several faults that will take some time to repair. Technical Division estimates forty-two more hours, seventeen if they jury-rig replacement parts."

Gendo shook his head. Cutting corners was how Second Impact got so out of hand.

The Sub-Commander checked a little box with his pen. "Genetic anomalies were detected in fourteen dummy clones. Regrowth will take a minimum of twenty-eight days. The Extended Battery System project has suffered several setbacks and completion will be delayed four days or more. Also," he frowned. "The coffee machine in command level mess hall still hasn't been replaced. It sets the filters on fire about half the time, but it's still used every morning. Very dangerous."

Gendo briefly wondered if that last item was a joke, but the grim look on the Sub-Commander's face said otherwise. "How dangerous?" he asked.

Fuyutsuki glanced over the page. "Two casualties so far. One with severe burns."

The bearded man sighed thoughtfully. "Train the command level personnel in the use and locations of fire extinguishers and have the machine replaced by next week."

Fuyutsuki checked another box.

"Is that all?" The Commander asked.

The Sub-Commander closed the file. "That is all. Would you care to join me for lunch?"

"Where?"

"It's an Italian place, very subdued. I think it's family-owned," Fuyutsuki said, thinking back to his last visit. "The Linguine is superb."

Gendo stood up. "I will accompany you, Professor," he told the older man. As an aside to himself he added, "Yui loved Italian."

The Sub-Commander smiled. "Good." He set the report folder on the desk and turned towards the door. His footsteps echoed in the cavernous room that was Gendo's office. "How did you get Section 2 back up to competency, again?"

The Commander straightened his coat and followed his subordinate out. "A leadership change," he answered. And an execution, but that was beside the point.

"I don't suppose Seele would agree to the same, do you?"

Gendo chuckled, the rarest of rares, and replied, "No, they would not." As soon as he stepped out of his office he regained his stony demeanor, plastering a familiar, humorless mask on his face. Most of NERV didn't even see him as a human being, and he intended to keep it that way. Rule through fear was easiest when you were a monster.

"Surge detected in junction F-21, circuit test aborted pending voltage adjustment," a robotic voice announced. About a dozen people groaned in response.

Doctor Ritsuko Akagi gripped the bridge of her nose between two fingers and tried not to scream for Gendo's blood. "Dammit," she muttered. "Dammit mother, why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn?"

Central Dogma's atmosphere was heavy with the scent of disappointment. Most of NERV's technicians were not superstitious, but the way things were going some of them would probably be sacrificing magazines and used coffee cups to the Magi by the end of the day, just to see if that would appease the infernal computer's malevolent spirit. The diagnostics were going so slowly that even Ritsuko was beginning to think Caspar was being difficult on purpose.

"Voltage adjustment completed," the Magi vocalized, "Reinitialize from junction F-19." This was machine code for "Let's try it again."

Ritsuko stepped deftly over a stray cable and took up her position behind Maya Ibuki's station. The young technician was incredibly talented, but she tended to make rather easy-to-miss, hard to fix mistakes. It was easier to catch those when the esteemed Director of Project E was looking over her shoulder.

"Hit it," the blond ordered.

Maya pressed a single key, and her terminal's screen lit up with streams and streams of data, all of it meaning nothing to anyone but the most privileged analysts. Doctor Akagi took it all in without so much as a blink, and found what she was looking for.

"There," she nearly shouted, "Right there, in the second line of F-21 process 486. That's what's causing all the circuit failures." A twinge of satisfaction made its way through her brain. That was checkmate for mother.

Maya, armed with the almighty delete key, set about making alterations to Caspar's programming. "So that's all it was? Just some extraneous code?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Ritsuko stepped back and started searching her lab coat pocket for a lighter. "Funny, isn't it?" she mused, "The most powerful computer system in the world, and a few little bits can make it blow hardware chunks all over the place." She laughed. "You better call maintenance again. Circuit Array 16's gonna need a new transformer."

"Yes, Doctor," the brown-haired technician answered.

"Just Ritsuko," the blond sighed. "Call me Ritsuko."

There was a hum, a grating clatter, and a continuous beep, and it was to the combination of these sounds that the First Child awoke, safe and sound in NERV's medical wing. Unit 00 and its overriding instincts were far away, bolted to the everlasting frame of EVA cage six. It was powerful indeed, but it would take long enough to break through to NERV medical that the injured pilot could escape to the surface. The potential threat was minimal.

"Good. Once was enough," the First Child said. He ran a bandaged hand through his tussled white hair, and attempted to sit up. He failed.

The little machine beside the bed started beeping faster and faster, its hidden meter climbing towards the trigger that would call the doctors. Physical exertion in patients with abdominal trauma was frowned upon.

Kaworu Nagisa, after several useless twists and turns of his body, contented himself with a compromise, settling back on his elbows with his torso several inches off the bed. You wouldn't know it to look at him, but the strange albino boy did not like being helpless. It was when you were helpless that an enemy would be most likely to take advantage of your vulnerability. Gendo Ikari had taught him this.

But was Unit 00 an enemy? Kaworu thought. After a moment of careful consideration, he supposed not. In the end its will had been insufficient, and it had been bested by the First Child. The battle had almost killed him, but he had still won, and that was all that mattered. The next activation was sure to be more favorable.

A spike of pain shot through the boy's bruised and battered midsection, despite the copious amounts of painkilling drugs NERV insisted on forcing through his bloodstream. After two or three minutes he was forced to lay back down, as his arms refused to support his weight for much longer. Kaworu's heavily bandaged head hit the pillow with the force of a feather, and the muscles in his neck finally relaxed. In fifteen minutes or so, when the pain lessened, he would do it again. No sense growing weak at a time like this.

The First Child reached up with his good arm (the left) and lightly tapped his covered eye (the right), wincing as a dull ache reached through his nerves. There was no question about it, he would most definitely be wearing a patch for at least a week. If only the entry plug's handles hadn't been so hard...

"They're only bruises," he murmured. "And it's only time." He grimaced. Time was in short supply. Tokyo-3 would soon see the fires of hell.

"Brought by Angels," Kaworu chuckled. The irony was not lost on him.

The sterile room's sliding door suddenly pulled away, snapping the albino out of his reverie. A smiling, almost giddy nurse stepped into the room, clad in light pink scrubs and carrying a tray of the dreaded special pudding. Kaworu imagined that the taste was slightly less unpleasant than receiving a suppository.

"Good afternoon Mr. Nagisa," the cheerful nurse offered. "And how are we feeling today?" Her smile seemed to grow exponentially, in an oddly sickening way. When did bedside manner become a course you could fail?

Kaworu smiled back, in the obscenely cute way that made weak women wither. "Fine, just fine." He said happily. "Is that pudding?"

In another, not-so-clean section of NERV, Operations Director Kaji and Second Lieutenant Aoba stood at a fair distance from one of the many vending machines on their level, holding their beers of choice and chatting about nonsensical things. They were not quite friends, but they were slightly more than acquaintances, like coworkers who once spent a Saturday hitting on women at the mall.

"No shit. Really?" Kaji was saying, barely disguising his disbelief.

Shigeru laughed. "I never saw any of those guys again. I bet he still doesn't shit properly," he took a sip from his beer, "Cause, you know, the keg-"

Kaji held up his hand. "I got it, I got it, you told me already," he groaned, trying without success to wipe the mental image from his head.

The disgusted look on the Operations Director's face provoked another belly laugh from the Bridge Technician, who was by this time thoroughly buzzed. Being around such interesting people as Maya and Makoto all day tended to increase the urge to drink at work.

"So..." Kaji sighed, regaining his composure, "Neither of you want Maya, eh?" He winked.

Shigeru shook his head vigorously. "Are you kidding, man? She's totally hot for the Doc, and anyway, Mak's too much of a chicken-shit to do-" he paused, as if his brain suddenly stopped transmitting to his mouth. "Stuff, you know, anything."

The unshaven man nodded.

"Have you ever talked to him for more than five minutes?" The long-haired technician asked, throwing his empty bottle into the recycling bin beside him.

"Who, Makoto?" Kaji answered, with a thoughtful look. "Yeah, a few times. Why?"

Shigeru chuckled. "He's depressing, man. He brings me down. Always talking about cartoons, how he can't get women, cartoons, computers..." The technician burped, after which he felt better. "Boring as hell."

Kaji nodded again, absently checking his watch. "Gotta get back to work," he mentioned, as if it was unimportant. "Catch you later."

"Yeah, later."

Following this abrupt end to their conversation, the two men departed for their respective sections, and all was well. Nothing had changed, except perhaps Kaji's opinion of Makoto Hyuga, but that was immaterial. Neither of the two NERV officers had expected any major epiphanies, as it was well-known that those only happen on a barstool at four in the morning. Suffice it to say that the conversation had no real merit at all, and they were okay with that.

Elsewhere, in a section of NERV frequented only by research personnel and the occasional lost security guard, Makoto, armed only with a power drill, carefully removed access panel 42-A and set it aside, pointing the flashlight in his mouth toward the opening he had just made in the wall. Several bundles of cables and a few pipes ran through this particular access point, and he began checking them all, searching for the elusive #5 Runner.

"Damn," the bespectacled technician muttered through his teeth, as he leaned back just long enough to wipe his glasses. The heat from behind the wall was fogging his vision.

A moment later, a muffled cry of triumph rang through the empty halls as Makoto wrapped his fingers around cable number five, yanking it until a small loop was poking through its bundle's wrappings. With several deft movements, the technician retrieved a pair of pliers from his belt, stripped a small bit of insulation from the cable, and attached an alligator clip to the bare section.

"One second," Makoto mumbled, connecting the clip to a small piece of machinery that was sitting on the ground beside him. Three seconds and a beep told him all he needed to know. "Success!" he shouted, losing his grip on the flashlight. Unfortunately enough, it fell directly onto his crotch.

Carefully raising a walkie-talkie to his ear, Makoto spoke the magic words, "Try it now," in a horrible, whiny tone. He was tempted to request a bag of ice.

"It works! What on earth did you do? I thought we had to replace the entire circuit!" Exclaimed a voice from the other end. It was Maya, hard at work on the Magi.

Makoto managed a smile, though no one could see it. "All I can say is it took balls."


	2. Phase 01: An Arrival

#Much of the first part is skippable technobabble, though it will help to explain some things as the story progresses. You can always come back later if it's too wordy for you. Besides, who needs development and backstory for unappreciated secondary characters?#

At various times in his life, Kozo Fuyutsuki was known to dabble in things of an odd manner. These things were often of a paranormal or futuristic nature, like the plot devices one would find in a science fiction story. One of the professor's indulgences, in fact, was the reason for his position in the metaphysical department of Kyoto University.

It has been said that great minds think alike, and this has held as true in the modern age as it has in the past. Actually, it was not uncommon for two different groups or individuals to create the same ideas, theories and tests within months or years of each other, but completely unaware of each other's existence. This was, without a doubt, what happened to one Tatsuya Katsuragi and a certain well-known Fuyutsuki.

The Super Solenoid Theory, basis for all human knowledge of the S2 Engine, the supposed source of infinite power, was Katsuragi's brainchild. Conceived and developed in secret, with support from the eternal organization known as Seele, it provided striking insight into the workings of what that organization knew to be the Angels' only driving force. Katsuragi toiled long and hard to bring his backers the equations and schematics they would later use in Second Impact, though he was unaware of where his information was really coming from and what his output was really being funneled into.

At around the same time, the indomitable Professor Fuyutsuki, then working as a UN consultant, came across the same source that had originally sparked Katsuragi's research. Whether this was by chance or by design no one can say, but the end result drew parallels so close that they might be used of evidence of God or tampering by a society of time-travelers. Fuyutsuki, with nothing more than his own brain and free time, arrived at the very same conclusions as Katsuragi. But even more astounding than that, he built a model.

It is undeniable that Kozo Fuyutsuki possessed a genius for biology. Whether he was aware of this or not is questionable, but it is obvious that he did not know his own strength in the mental realm. Whereas Katsuragi worked from the boring, mathematical aspect, keeping everything on paper, Fuyutsuki's approach was much more animated. From the very beginning he applied his discoveries in animal experiments, and in observing the results he learned far more than Katsuragi's equations could ever predict.

The first modified enzymes, altered by a simple chemical the Professor was able to create in a college laboratory, decreased the caloric needs of a frog by no less than fifty percent. In plain terms, they ate half as much and stayed exactly the same otherwise. Their digestive systems had been made incredibly efficient, just from the addition of a single set of unremarkable enzymes. At once the Professor doubled his efforts. If he could produce that kind of result at such an early stage in his research, think what he could do when he was finished!

Within days the frogs died, victims of accelerated cellular degeneration, but Fuyutsuki was undeterred. He continued to build upon the findings of the source, a ninety page paper on metabiology. With every passing month his experiments grew more detailed and their outcomes more incredible, while the UN consumed less and less of the Professor's time. In three-quarters of a year he came farther than Katsuragi had in four, though he worked without anyone's assistance. In three-quarters of a year he had his first real success.

The process was exceedingly simple. All the blueprints had existed in some form or another all along; it was just a matter of activating dormant genes at the right times, and giving them "fuel" in the form of cell chemicals. The first trials, unfortunately, produced only violent explosions, always fatal to the test subjects (usually squirrels) and (at least once) almost fatal to the Professor himself. But he still pressed on, and he finally, with much perseverance and fire-extinguishing foam, found himself with a nuclear pet. Kozo Fuyutsuki had created the first Breatharian rat.

How it worked was immaterial. That it worked was astounding. What to do with it was puzzling. The first successful test subject was alive and kicking, no worse for wear in the least, and was able to run indefinitely without food, water, or even air, and the very novelty of it almost caused the Professor to abandon the project entirely, for fear that a future super-animal would escape, breed, and destroy the world. What possible good could come of this?

In the end, however, Fuyutsuki abandoned his paranoia and continued his research, documenting it every step of the way. By now the operation of the so-called S2 Engine was more or less clear, though it would take an Einstein of Physics to describe it in numbers, and that person was most decidedly not Kozo. The Engine itself, though it was actually more of an organ, considering its biological origins, was quite small, but capable of sustaining the organism it was attached to indefinitely. It was comparable to a perpetual motion machine, but one degree better, as its output was infinitely greater than its input, because there was no input to speak of. Yes, the S2 Engine was a geyser of energy, to which there was no end.

The completed S2 Engine, grown as part of the test rat's own body, contained within a field of unspeakable power a region of space that would later become known as a Dirac Sea. This Sea, blacker than the blackest night, was an infinite expanse, a universe with different laws than ours. The Sea knew no entropy and no limit. Inside was every particle and wave known to science, some that weren't, and some that would never be. And all of it wanted out. The S2 Engine, through a cascading reaction describable only through integers and symbols, released it.

There was no waste, though that would have been impossible anyway, given the source. The amount of energy released was always exactly what was required, nothing more, nothing less. If the rat was running or standing still, the S2 would provide more or less energy, respectively. Everything ran perfectly, without any intervention from any other system, though the S2 would periodically produce and re-absorb tiny cells that were used to repair itself. It was like a symbiont, functioning in perfect harmony with its host.

And yet, as before, the end result was less than satisfactory. The frogs that were exposed to the fruits of the theory for only a brief moment were snuffed out in days. The rat, still the only one of its kind, as the Professor was trying to avoid more explosions, suffered a quicker, more complete end. One day, appropriately enough during observation time, the little furry animal disappeared.

The Professor was intrigued, but also wary. He had practically no evidence to go on, and so the truth could be nearly anything. The rat could have suddenly accelerated to light speed, or turned into quantum particles and escaped through a wall. It could even have twitched its tiny nose and become God himself, fueled by the infinite and total source of S2 power. There was no way to tell, no way to find out, no way to be sure. It was gone, and that was that. (The rat had actually been swallowed by the Dirac Sea, S2 Engine and all, but Fuyutsuki didn't know that.)

In the end, nothing much came of the Professor's research. Through obviously nefarious means, Seele came to know about his little pet project, and shut him down at once, acting through their UN puppets under the guise of national security. All equipment and data was confiscated, and subsequently caused Tatsuya Katsuragi a great headache (and furious diarrhea), putting a premature end to Fuyutsuki's brainchild.

All was not lost, though, as the initial enzyme work proved useless enough to Seele for them to let the Professor keep it, and it later got him that job at Kyoto, despite the inevitable mass deaths it caused among the test frogs. Those eleven months spent working on someone else's theory were worth much more than a University job, however. They alerted Seele to Fuyutsuki's existence, and led him later to GEHIRN, through an association with one Yui Ikari, and finally to NERV, where the ruthless Gendo Rokubungi would rule with an iron fist following his wife's death.

"What the-" Kozo awoke with a start, coughing madly and grasping the air. He had only meant to take a nap.

Gradually, the old man pulled himself out of his fit, regaining his composure with no great effort. He pried his eyes open, focused, and recognized his surroundings. He was in his office, the one slightly below Gendo's cavernous pyramid-top penthouse. His coat was draped over the arm of the couch, which he was currently occupying, or to be more exact, sprawled on, and the end lamp was on the floor, its fluorescent bulb broken.

The Professor's thoughts coalesced immediately. "A narrative?" He lifted himself up and blinked. "Since when do I dream in narratives?" This pressing question was followed rapidly by the hunger-driven "Do we have any crackers?"

As Fuyutsuki hauled himself out of the overstuffed, exceedingly comfortable piece of furniture, a host of things began occurring to him, all at once. First and foremost, that was a really weird-ass dream, which he could probably blame on the hot pockets. Second, there was a new bundle of folders on his desk which he hadn't ever seen before, which meant that his door was unlocked and someone had seen him sleeping. He grimaced. Third, and probably most important of all seventy-eight, the Third Child was due to arrive in exactly fifty minutes, which was bad because Gendo had wanted to see him at nine and Asuka would be at NERV by eleven.

"Nuts." He was very late. Given his seniority, his rank, and his odd friendship with the leader of the organization, this shouldn't have been much of a problem. However, at NERV it was understood, though unwritten, that tardiness was punishable by extreme discomfort, followed by death. Gendo liked his appointments to be in order.

Fuyutsuki hurried over to his desk, picked up the phone, and dialed the extension for Gendo's office, which was not, as some liked to claim, "666", but the more mundane "566". It rung twice, increasing the old man's discomfort, and then there was a click.

"Yes?" said the man on the other end, in a voice that would chill the blood of Satan. The Sub-Commander was used to it by then.

"Ikari, it's Fuyutsuki," the Professor said, knowing full well that caller ID made the Commander well aware of who called him. "I'm sorry, I'd forgotten about our meeting-"

"Meeting?" Gendo cut him off. "I apologize," he continued after a moment, as if he had just remembered something very important. "I had forgotten as well. I will meet you at entrance fifteen. There are things we must discuss." The phone clicked, and the conversation was over.

Fuyutsuki set the handset down carefully, feeling genuinely flabbergasted. Gendo Ikari never forgot anything, least of all times and places. It irked him to no end when someone was more than a few seconds late, though the only way you could tell was by the expression on his face when he had you executed for being more than a few seconds late. Why then, would the most powerful man in NERV, who wore an atomic clock on his wrist, no less, ever claim that he had forgotten something?

Was he doing it solely for Kozo's benefit, did he have some sort of ulterior motive or scenario, or did he genuinely let it slip his mind, admit it, and apologize? The last option was obviously out, but whether it was either of the other two or neither was harder to determine. It was unlikely that any scenario of Gendo's depended on the Sub-Commander taking a nap, so Fuyutsuki decided that the first choice was the most rational. Whoever had delivered the files probably told the bearded man that his trusted advisor was sleeping on the job.

The old Professor smirked. "That man is something else," he said to himself, as he slipped his coat on and adjusted the name badge.

In less than a minute everything was put to order, though the lack of any replacement bulbs forced the now-upright lamp to remain unlit. With a sigh and a flick of the wrist, the clearly unlocked door was opened and closed, leaving the office empty once again. A bony, wrinkled hand punched in the key code for the locking mechanism, driving the lock bolts in and assuring that no one save for the Commander himself would be able to intrude without a screwdriver and a shaped charge.

A moment later the Professor was off, brushing his hair back into a respectable position with his hands as he walked the silent halls of the NERV pyramid. Soon enough a cluster of elevators came into view, enticing those nearby with wide-open doors. Fuyutsuki smirked. They were like sirens, luring you with the promise of a quick ride to your destination, no waits and no frustration, only to slam their doors shut just as you reached the threshold. They were works of evil, those sterile NERV lifts. Masters of torment and agony.

By the time the old man reached the horrible things, all of them were closed, called to other sections of the base by the buttons of doom. Brief consideration was put to taking the stairs, but given how high up the offices were, it was out of the question unless you planned to winch yourself down with a grapple gun. Kozo stepped up and pressed one of the call buttons, wondering if anyone had ever become so fed up with the lifts that they stole Batman's utility belt for a quicker way down. The thought was intriguing.

In good time, one of the infernal machines returned to the office section, probably after drawing the losing straw and being forced by its buddies to serve the soft, squishy humans for the day. Either that, or the Magi decided the Sub-Commander was worthy.

"Well," Fuyutsuki muttered absently as he stepped into the waiting elevator, "I never thought I'd see my imagination again, and now, here it is." He smiled as the doors closed, sealing him off from the echoing, nearly empty hallways. "Hallucinogens in the coffee, probably. Dammit, that policy was supposed to be discontinued..." A floor number was entered, and the elevator began to descend, heading straight for ground level and groaning all the way.

The short ride provided adequate time for speculation and reflection. As usual, the topic had to do with the Commander. What could he have wanted to discuss? Or, to see the question in a different light, what could he not want to discuss? His only child, the daughter he had abandoned to far-off relatives years ago, was coming to NERV at his behest, only to find that she was going to be made a Child, a pilot for the monster known as Unit 01. The mission of GEHIRN's successor would be explained to her, the necessity of defeating the Angels and saving humanity.

Commander Ikari was likely to just say it all outright, and then make it impossible for her to refuse, if she actually had the audacity to defy him, that is. No, he probably had that all worked out already, without any help from the Sub-Commander. So what, then, did he want to talk about? The budget? Instrumentality? Seele? The dummy system? It could be practically anything. It could be economics, philosophy, kittens, toast, even the existence of God.

The elevator came to a halt just as the gray-haired Professor decided that his time was better spent actually talking to the man than thinking about what he wanted to speak about. It wasn't far to entrance fifteen, anyway, since it was right outside headquarters. An underground helipad, no less. The absurdity was extreme.

A brisk walk brought the Professor to one of the many outer doors in no time. Though his office was near the apex of the pyramid, the elevator he had taken was one of a special type, which ran at an angle rather than straight down. Though the lift had felt upright enough, it had in fact been following one of the pyramid's sides the whole time, depositing its passenger almost directly at one of the building's corners, which happened to be the location of half a dozen keycard-opened blast doors.

The huge silver door Fuyutsuki had chosen to patronize slid open immediately as soon as it recognized his security card, and closed behind him quickly as he passed. A slight breeze ruffled the Professor's hair as he stepped outside, prompting him to wonder why there was weather in the GeoFront. He sighed. So much about the place didn't make an ounce of sense. Even now there was a VTOL docked at the roof of the enormous bubble-shaped cavern, waiting to pick up its VIP passenger from yet another VTOL set to arrive topside.

Entrance fifteen, an ungodly large platform up on stilts, rose above the surrounding trees as Fuyutsuki traversed one of the many paths leading from NERV proper. The tiny control tower and steeply descending stairway aligned themselves in his vision as he cleared the small section of forest, popping out of the little slice of nature and into a clearing paved with concrete. Gendo Ikari, in all his bearded glory, stood stock still beside one of the stilts, staring at it intently, and probably criticizing its sub-par construction for some paranoid reason.

Kozo approached the black-suited Commander, checking his watch and frowning. It had taken him less than ten minutes to get to the helipad from his office, but it felt like so much longer. He shrugged off the feeling as an anachronism and cleared his throat. Gendo turned around slowly, his attention shifting to the new arrival.

"Hello, Professor," he greeted the old man, pushing his tinted glasses up the bridge of his nose. He did that frequently enough for it to be considered a compulsion.

Fuyutsuki smiled warily. "Good morning, Ikari. You had something you wished to discuss?" The question was unnecessarily formal, but it couldn't be helped. The bearded man was about to see his daughter for the first time in three years. He wouldn't be feeling too friendly, obviously.

Gendo did not change his expression, though his voice softened almost imperceptibly. "Indeed. You recall the aberration Doctor Akagi detected in Unit 01's carapace, correct?" Fuyutsuki nodded, and the bearded man continued. "There has been a development." His gaze suggested annoyance, and perhaps a bit of anger. It was probably a bad development.

The Sub-Commander shifted on his feet. "What happened?" he asked. Doctor Akagi had mentioned several days ago that there was a mutation in some of the cells surrounding Unit 01's core. Ikari ordered the tissue excised, and the problem appeared to have been solved.

"The aberration has returned," Gendo said grimly. "It is spreading faster than it can be removed. The core has already been surrounded by affected cells."

Fuyutsuki twitched. Could Evangelions get cancer? "What does this mean for Unit 01?"

"At the moment, nothing," the bearded man explained. "It is merely a self-perpetuating mutation in an unused section of DNA. The prospect of such an object is disturbing, but it poses no threat in its current form."

The Sub-Commander frowned, groaning inwardly. "Why did you want to discuss it then?" he asked, genuinely confused.

Gendo smirked. "You are a biologist, Professor. You know as well as I that mutations, however benign they appear to be, almost always cause lamentable consequences. I wish to minimize the risk to Unit 01's utility. It must remain viable." He put extra emphasis on the last sentence, reminding Fuyutsuki of the current inhabitant of that particular Unit's core. The Commander's concern was understandable.

Kozo took on a thoughtful look. Doctor Akagi could handle herself quite well in most fields, though she specialized in computer mechanics, like her mother did. She was one of very few people who could match the Professor in most biological sciences, as evidenced by her handling of the Evangelions so far, but she lagged far behind in ingenuity, perseverance, and straight imagination. She was honestly much better suited to dealing with computer code, for living beings did not often respond to her kind of logic.

Since Ikari obviously did not trust his lover (yes, Fuyutsuki knew) fully with the well-being of his favorite EVA, the Professor was the obvious next candidate. He had, at least temporarily, bestowed a source of infinite power on a common earth rodent. What possible challenge could a simple mutation pose to the man who shaped S2 from genes and proteins?

"There are several possibilities..." Kozo began, ordering his thoughts.

Gendo checked his atomic watch. "Time is short. What countermeasures would be most effective?" He nearly demanded, shoving his hands into his pockets.

The Professor cut to the chase. "Akagi probably didn't get all the affected cells the first time around. If we destroyed a large section of tissue, sterilized the wound, and applied the appropriate stimuli, the Evangelion could probably complete the job through rapid regeneration."

The Commander nodded, directing Fuyutsuki to continue.

"If the mutation can be marked or targeted in some way," the Professor said, "We could provoke Unit 01's own immune system into destroying the cells containing infected DNA. We could also create a virus to do the same job, or to replace the mutation with another section of DNA."

"A retroviral treatment," Gendo surmised. A nod from the old man confirmed that he was correct.

"First and foremost, we should take samples of infected and uninfected cells and culture them. Actually, I recommend we culture every type of cell, just in case we need replacement tissue." Fuyutsuki paused momentarily as Gendo nodded, signaling that he would tell Doctor Akagi to do exactly what he just said. "Also, we should try to determine the mutation's method of propagation, and if it can spread to human or animal cells. Otherwise, some technician might transfer it to Unit 00 as well."

Gendo seemed to make an especially large note of that part, as it would be catastrophically bad to have two EVAs out of commission at once. At that point Seele would probably effect a change of leadership. With assassins.

"Is there anything else?" the Commander asked.

Kozo thought for a brief moment, and said, "Quarantine it. Make sure no one gets in or out of the cages without a containment suit and a detox scrub."

Ikari raised an eyebrow. "I will take your comments under advisement. Thank you for your time, Professor," he replied tactfully. He was very, very good at using people without letting on that they were being used, mostly by choosing his words carefully. Despite his constant doom-and-gloom demeanor, the bearded man was actually a superb diplomat, easily capable of coercing the entire UN at once. How exactly he was able to do this without so much as a smile or a kind word was a mystery to many.

The older, less politically-inclined man shrugged nonchalantly, relaxing his stiff shoulders and plastering a neutral expression on his slightly wrinkled face. He was happy to help in any way he could, of course, but he didn't want to step on any toes. Gendo never worried about offending those under his command, since he didn't consider pandering to childish emotions a part of his job. Were it up to Fuyutsuki, Doctor Akagi would have been left to handle the situation on her own until the Professor's expertise was truly required, because he respected her abilities and position as Director of Project E. Then again, that kind of stance would probably lead to the destruction of NERV and all mankind by a totally preventable mishap.

Gendo looked up. "The transport is arriving." It was also early.

The Sub-Commander looked up, shielding his eyes from the glare of the GeoFront sun lights. Up above, he could barely make out the outline of a UN VTOL's gigantic engines, slowly growing larger as the unwieldy craft descended towards the platform of entrance fifteen. In a moment, the noise from the downward-pointed jets became more than just background rumbling. A stiff breeze began to blow, which forced Gendo to keep a hand on his glasses.

"Transport six, cleared to land at pad one-five," a nameless radio operator announced. Entrance fifteen's air control tower was equipped with externally-mounted loudspeakers, presumably to allow the personnel inside to tell everyone outside what was going on. For instance, someone who had no working knowledge of lift and thrust might be happy to know that the eighteen ton aircraft about to land twenty feet away from him was pointing its engines straight at him and they would likely blow him into the nearest tree if he didn't move.

Fortunately, both the Commander and Sub-Commander had a working knowledge of common sense, and so avoided any close encounters with large wooden objects as the VTOL set down on the stilted helipad. The unarmed transport's side displayed, in large block letters, "Air Ferry", which was probably code for "Waste of taxpayer's money that takes people on a less than thirty second ride while burning fuel that costs more than a pardon from the Pope himself".

Unloading took reasonably little time, considering that all the enormous, odd-looking air ferry was carrying was a single fourteen-year-old and her bag, and very soon after landing, with an ear-splitting roar, the VTOL took off for the GeoFront ceiling. Fuyutsuki straightened up a little bit, wanting to make a good first impression on the new pilot. If she was going to be fighting Angels, she should at least trust someone in the chain of command, and that would most likely not be Gendo.

The bearded man adjusted his glasses and turned toward the platform stairway. For the first time in a long time, he looked almost expectant.

As the boom of powerful jets faded into the distance, Asuka Rokubungi descended toward what passed for ground level in the GeoFront, keeping her eyes on her feet. Air travel didn't appear to sit very well with her.

"Odd," Fuyutsuki said to himself. Ikari's incredible parenting skills should by all rights have produced a rebellious, angry teenager, not the subdued, angsty type that was approaching them. There had to be a mistake. The pleated skirt, falling well below the knees, the loose-fitting white blouse that hid everything of note, the neatly kept hair that barely passed the shoulders, every detail seemed to scream of unnoticeable, depressingly mundane ordinary. Nothing about the girl could possibly suggest anything more than boredom.

In a way it was disappointing, but in another way it was cause for relief. There would be no drama, no drawn-out fights between two strong-willed people, each bent on having their own way. There would be only the quiet acceptance of orders, and the resounding echo of the mediocre.

But as the apparently harmless girl dropped over the last step, turned toward the two men waiting for her, and looked up, Fuyutsuki nearly lost a nerve. For a man who loved to analyze, to examine the inner self of others from a distance, this new Child could be quite the shock. Everything about her suggested normality. Everything but her eyes. There was such fire in them! So much like her mother's, filled with a deep, untamed emotion that longed to be released.

Asuka drew closer, her face contorting slightly. Was it sadness? Disgust? Anger? No, it was something else, something more base than that. It was pain. As Fuyutsuki knew well, the eyes are the window to the soul, and there was such pain in hers. Such horrible, intense pain. Could the Commander have caused all this? A quick glance at the bearded man revealed that his expression had become as stony as the faces on Easter Island. No doubt he was disappointed in what he saw before him. He too had expected something else. There was a limit to Section 2's usefulness, and this situation showed that limit perfectly. Cameras and binoculars cannot tell you what a person feels.

The brown-haired, blue-eyed girl came to a halt, and with what must have taken immense courage, looked straight into the Commander's eyes. Determined to see herself through, she said, with a voice almost too soft to be heard, a single word. "Father."

Gendo returned her stare with nothing less than contempt. He opened his mouth, and began a saga. "It's been a while."


	3. Phase 02: Shafted

#Finally some actual events! The main story actually advances, and even more of the twisted backstory is revealed! How extremely relevant to the plot and/or characters... Enjoy.#

There is such a thing as an acceptable loss. 500 casualties in a battle involving ten thousand men is one example, a three percent mortality rate in a population of millions is another. The amount of human beings one is willing to risk, or kill outright, is generally proportional to the desirability of the outcome one wishes to achieve. What does that say, then, about the men who caused the annihilation of three-and-a-quarter billion people, and could very well have destroyed the rest?

Second Impact was hell. The years following it were worse. So many suffered and died for the wrongs of a few misguided old fools, and what good did such sacrifice bring them? Did the unknowing atonement of hundreds of thousands of starving, fleeing people bring back those who took the full face of Adam's fury? No. Was the entire ordeal, stretching from the White Moon's destruction to the current state of reconstruction, worth it? Yes. Seele was convinced of it. Only through Impact could they have gained the knowledge they required, to ensure humanity's final destination. Instrumentality, the only word worth every human life.

Their faith in themselves was disturbing. Their complete and utter trust in their own judgment, in the prophecies, in the outrageous lie that they were all on the right path, and Impact was unavoidable. It was almost sickening, at least to those that still retained their sanity. The truth, the horrible, buried truth was: They were wrong. Their experiment in Antarctica, which claimed the lives of an entire expedition, save for a single little girl, was an avoidable failure. It might have worked, or at least been not quite so destructive, if they had recognized one simple detail.

The Lance of Longinus, the key instrument of Seele's atrocities, was not, as they would later claim, the only one of its kind. Each of the two Moons contained a Lance, along with the two unique, grotesque beings that were later named Angels, messengers of God. The Lances were far from identical, paired exclusively with their respective masters, Adam and Lilith. They were checks for the enormous power of those beings, meant to supervise and restrain those they were subservient to, and prevent any abuse of their incredible abilities. The question of how a Lance belonging to one Angel would affect another was never meant to be answered.

Katsuragi's contact experiment answered it. Unwittingly thrusting Lilith's Lance into Adam's chest with a gigantic scaffold, the men and women on Seele's payroll began the greatest catastrophe to befall the planet since the Moons first fell all those millions of years ago. Without adequate provisions for defense, control, or containment, the expedition had no hope of arresting the cascade they had set off. Adam, enraged and vengeful, exacted payment from the foolish humans for his premature awakening, his inbuilt restraints removed by Lilith's Lance.

There was an otherworldly scream, and an explosion so immense it moved the very Earth itself, shifting its axis until the tilt that once produced seasons was reduced to nothing. The light alone was enough to melt the frozen continent at once, leaving only a few scattered icebergs adrift in a sea of Adam's blood. The White Moon and its dimensionless core, the Chamber of Gaf, were disintegrated instantly, leaving a handful of surviving Angel souls to wander the environment without purpose or, for the moment, form. In retrospect it was a miracle Katsuragi's daughter escaped alive, as there were many others, much farther away, who did not.

Second Impact, the greatest travesty mankind has ever inflicted upon itself, was not the end. Through no small effort the resilient, ever-resourceful humans rebuilt their world, their nations, and their lives, though their population was diminished significantly. Despite the staggering scale of their failure, Seele was undeterred, and perhaps encouraged by the return of Earth to a fraction of its former glory, and so plans for Third Impact have been moving forward since the very moment Antarctica was reduced to vapor. If Seele were to succeed in this final mission, the result might not be so bad, as long as the right person was at the helm when it all went down. On the other hand, if Seele failed again, humanity would be able to make no further attempts. It was all or nothing this time. Bases loaded, two outs, and a pitcher with a penchant for curveballs. Swing, batter. Swing hard.

"To err is human, to forgive is divine," Ryoji Kaji muttered to himself. "What a load of bullshit." As the elevator doors opened at long last, he abandoned his reflections to the wind, preferring instead to embrace a little ignorance and be much the happier for it. He grinned. "If life gives you lemons, trade em' for kool aid."

"What?" Maya glanced at the unshaven man, a confused look on her face.

Kaji shrugged. "Just another worthless saying. Come, Central Dogma awaits." With a quick, twisting step, he took off in the general direction of the Command Center, giving the young Lieutenant no choice but to follow or be left behind.

Far from the Operations Director and his quiet, mousy companion, two keycards were swiped, a blast door was opened, and three persons entered the NERV pyramid. The first, Commander Ikari, stepped across the threshold carefully, placing his gloved hands in his pockets. The second, Sub-Commander Fuyutsuki, followed closely, a rather indignant look on his face. The third, a plain girl named Asuka, tagged along almost like an afterthought at the end of a sentence, feeling out-of-place and slightly nauseated. The ride down had not been pleasant.

Polished dress shoes tapped out an atypical rhythm on the hard white floor as the two higher-ups led their guest onward. Every hallway seemed identical to the next, differing only in the labels beside the myriad steel doors. It was only when the group reached the Shaft that things actually began to get interesting.

Asuka breathed a quiet sigh and tightened her grip on her bag, staring ahead with rapt attention as two gigantic titanium plates slid back into the wall, revealing an enormous bridge that seemed to stretch out forever. The two men in front of her led on, traversing the great metal causeway without difficulty, and so she followed, reluctantly. The view was staggering.

Above and below, a great shaft extended through the pyramid, from a point just below the offices to the plummeting depths of Terminal Dogma. At every level, girders, bridges, tubes, and escalators criss-crossed and interconnected, forming a network that offered access to nearly every part of NERV. It was near the top of this network, at GeoFront ground level, that Ikari, Fuyutsuki, and Rokubungi had entered. The great bridge they were walking on was actually part of the superstructure of the base, serving (along with others like it) to keep the hollow shaft from collapsing on itself. That such crucial parts of NERV were out in the open, exposed to anyone with the security clearance of a hot dog, was a little bit odd.

Asuka walked on, keeping her free hand pressed to the railing at all times. At one point she looked down, and regretted it immediately. It was like staring into the center of the Earth, interesting yet extremely disconcerting. She almost got up the nerve to ask where they were going.

At an inconspicuous, hard-to-notice marker, the two superior officers paused, turned, and faced the bridge railing, staring out at the wall of the shaft. Asuka, having no real choice, stopped and mimicked them, standing about shoulder width from Fuyutsuki. Neither of the men looked at her or said anything at all. After a few seconds of this silence, the brown-haired girl noticed the wires. There were four of them, long, thin, silver cables that blended in to the background of the solid metal walls that composed the shaft. They seemed to be retracting into several boxes up above, affixed to the bottom of another bridge.

"Of course," she was tempted to say. It was painfully obvious, an open-air lift system that ran straight through NERV, presumably providing a more direct route to wherever they were going. The Commander's daughter had noticed a few elevators as they passed, so she knew that they must go somewhere, just not exactly where. Having nothing else to do, she tried to think about how big the pyramid really was, to be able to accommodate the shaft, a separate elevator system, and god knows how many other methods of transportation. One thing was for sure, it was bigger than any other building she had seen. Maybe not as tall, but definitely wider.

What could NERV possibly contain that needed so much space?

"Stand back," the Sub-Commander warned. He and Gendo had stepped several paces away while Asuka was deep in thought, leaving her staring blankly over the side of the bridge. She joined them quickly, unsure of what was about to happen. Her surmising was interrupted when an entire section of railing promptly dropped away, swinging over the side to clear a path for the approaching platform's passengers. Had the brown-haired introvert still been hanging on to the railing, she would have gone over the edge. She shuddered at the thought.

The silver wires slowed as the cargo they were supporting approached its destination. It was an unremarkable flat piece of metal, enclosed in a partial cage of plastic rods. The rods on the side that faced the bridge lowered through holes in the flooring, leaving a large space through which several dozen people could pass. Before the platform even came to a halt, the two men were boarding it. Fuyutsuki motioned for Asuka to follow.

With an inaudible gulp, she did, tensing as the lift swayed slightly. Off to the side, Gendo pressed several buttons on a small control panel, and the platform began to descend. Sensing Asuka's discomfort, the older man moved forward and began to speak, hoping to keep her attention off the current situation.

"This shaft, and several others like it, run through the center of this building," he said, slipping into lecture mode. During his time as a Professor he had become very good at speaking informatively. "They extend through every underground level, whereas the elevators do not, so traveling via one of these lifts," he gestured to the floor, "Is a faster way to get where we're going than taking the more common route."

Asuka looked up at the Sub-Commander inquisitively. "Where exactly are we going?" she asked pointedly, prompting an eyebrow raise from Gendo.

Fuyutsuki smiled. "The heart of this organization," he said cryptically. "I'm afraid it's very difficult to explain in words. It is best to simply see it for yourself." At this Asuka frowned with dissatisfaction, but nodded anyway, showing that she understood.

The question she had really wanted to ask was "Why am I here?", but the answer to that would probably only go so far as a "Because I requested your presence," from her father. In fact, that's exactly what he would say.

"Up there," Fuyutsuki stated, pointing straight up, "Is our command center, which houses the most powerful single computer system in the world. It is a full artificial intelligence, which we call the Magi," he grinned. "You should challenge it to a game of chess, at least once. It's astoundingly good." At Asuka's blank look he added, "But perhaps you would prefer something a little more useful than a chess match. I'm sure the Magi would be happy to help if your homework ever troubles you..." he trailed off. The Professor had meant it half-jokingly, but Gendo gave him a questioning glance anyway. The Magi were not tutors.

Asuka shifted. Her bag, a business case of some inferior imitation leather, was beginning to get heavy. How far down did the shaft really go, anyway? She glanced to her right, where the old man was standing, encased in his brown NERV coat. Why not ask him?

"How far does this thing go?"

Fuyutsuki looked off to the side. "Several hundred meters," he replied knowingly. "We won't be going that far, though. Our destination is only a few more meters down, where that extension is." He leaned close to the edge, motioning towards a small pillar that jutted out of the wall, supporting what looked like a giant microwave. "That's a seismometer," the old man explained, "It monitors shockwaves in the GeoFront. Like an earthquake detector."

"What's the window for?" Asuka asked, referring to the little shiny panel that adorned the front of the detector.

"Terminal readout," the Professor said. "It's not really accessible down here, but it's a self contained unit, so it has one for diagnostics. If one of them ever went dead and the Magi couldn't do anything about it, we'd have to send a technician down on a window-washing scaffold." He laughed at the thought of it. NERV, with all of its advanced technology, dropping some poor guy down through the Earth to check screens.

Asuka giggled softly. That someone who worked so closely with her father actually had a sense of humor was pleasantly surprising.

The lift began to slow down, prompting the Professor to remark, "We're almost there."

The brown-haired girl planted her feet, bracing for a hard stop. It wasn't quite as if she expected the worst, but her life had been such that preparing for bad situations was instinctual to her now. Put another way, avoiding pain was second nature.

Red lights blinked on the control panel as the lift passed close by a large box marked Fire Suppression, and continued just below it, to where a section of floor extended out from an open hallway attached to the shaft. It was a simple arrangement, just like the long bridges above and below except much smaller, and enclosed. The lift stopped just in front of an opening that led to a recessed door. Large block letters identified it as Maintenance Access 44 – Cage.

The lift stopped, abruptly, providing justification for Asuka's position. Once the large platform had finally stopped wobbling, the rods at the front slid down, making way for the disembarking passengers. Ikari went first, followed by the Sub-Commander and the girl. A security code was entered, quickly, into the keypad beside the access door, and the way was cleared once again. The three entered the passageway noiselessly, turning left and heading outside the confines of the shaft.

Soon, Asuka found herself in an area not unlike the sameness-afflicted hallways at ground level, though the walls were decidedly less white. Technicians and Mechanics in orange jumpsuits were everywhere, congregating at various points along the way, discussing things in unintelligible technobabble. The blue-eyed girl figured that they were near something important, or some work was being done, because that amount of people couldn't be in the same place for no reason.

They were in crowds, everywhere, going every-which way with their tool belts and laptop cases, opening panels in the middle of the hall and peering inside, spooling wires and making cuts with sharp pliers, calling for assistance with heavy, complex-looking equipment. And though they all obviously had a job to do, each and every one nearly jumped to attention at the sight of her father, stumbling all over each other to get out of his way. It was baffling, the way he commanded such... What was it? Fear?

Asuka glanced at their faces as she moved, now struggling even more with her increasingly heavy bag. The orange-suited men and women averted their eyes as the bearded leader passed, probably afraid to even make eye contact, lest Satan himself rip out of Gendo's skull and drag them down to hell. To provoke such a reaction, the man must have done something extraordinary, or, no. No, Asuka realized with a jolt, all he had to do was be himself. All the power of NERV, a UN-sanctioned paramilitary, in the hands of Gendo Ikari. Who could be stupid enough not to fear him?

The girl grimaced. All she had needed to know was in the paperwork, in the files the Section Two man had handed to her three days ago, and the signature-requiring set of documents he had given, and taken, yesterday. She was bound by the strictest law, now, facing charges of treason if any classified information escaped with her. If there was a way for her father to force her to sign away her Geneva Convention rights, it would have been in those papers. Then again, he probably needed no such legal assurance to torture someone. Had he not left her alone and crying at that train station, to be picked up by relatives he no doubt bribed? Feh. He did what he liked and answered to no one for it. That was why they feared him.

Only a few minutes after the ride down to the cage level had ended, the group passed through another blast door, and arrived at the "heart of the organization," as Fuyutsuki had eloquently put it. Despite being behind several layers of glass, Asuka felt rather unsafe, gazing at the heart of NERV.

"This is what words cannot describe," the Sub-Commander said, his eyes glittering with mirth. "Quarantine protocol is in place at the moment, so we can't actually go down there, but I for one think you're close enough right here." Before truly beginning their journey, the three had stopped for a moment as Ikari made a call from his cell phone. He had mentioned something about quarantine, as well as EVA, though Asuka did not quite understand what he was talking about. Now she did.

The brown-haired girl gaped, barely keeping a grip on her bag as the purple Unit 01 leered menacingly at her. It was forty meters away and heavily restrained, but just looking at its face made the Commander's daughter think that it could get to her easily if it so wished. Lions can be caged because they cannot bite through steel bars. This thing was not a lion. It was a monster.

"The Synthetic Lifeform Evangelion, Unit 01," the Commander recited. "Our greatest accomplishment as a species."

Asuka twisted to return her father's unflinching stare. The fluorescent lights reflected off his glasses, making it impossible to see his eyes. He looked nearly as menacing as Unit 01. "Why are you showing me this?" she asked, feeling ridiculous for posing such a query to the bearded man. The answer was going to be absurdly obvious.

The Commander did not disappoint. "Because you have been chosen as its pilot," he replied coolly. He left no room for surprise or shock, only confusion.

"But- Why?" Asuka sputtered, stepping back from the glass wall. Fuyutsuki retreated to the corner of the room containing the door. At the moment, he was a third wheel. The conversation was between father and daughter, no one else.

Gendo pushed his glasses up his nose. "You have been under observation for quite some time. Every indication declares you to be a match for this Unit. There is no one else."

The man's daughter turned to look back at the purple Evangelion, then glanced back at her father. It had to be a dream. "How," she began, trying to find the words, "How can that be?"

"The Marduk Institute is very thorough," Gendo said. He shifted slightly, so that he almost seemed to be looming over his cringing offspring. "They have designated you the Third Child. That title is irreproachable. Only you can pilot this Unit with the efficiency it requires," he repressed the urge to grin. Lying to someone's face was always enjoyable, but deliberately deceiving his own daughter was on a whole different level. "No one else can utilize the Evangelion to its full ability. Others may try, but all would ultimately fail." The endearing strategy the Commander was using was potent, but might not work too well on the daughter he had shamelessly abandoned. He was prepared to switch to guilt or anger motivation at a moment's notice. As Fuyutsuki had once observed, he was too good for his own good.

"Then why am I the Third Child?" Asuka asked, making a rather astute observation that Gendo did not think she would. It was rather trivial, but still, he had thought it beyond her mental faculties. Underestimating his own daughter was a task he did not want to repeat, lest it undermine his scenario.

The Commander's glasses glinted. "There are two others, each with their own respective Units. The First was chosen nine years ago, and the Second seven. You are merely the latest, hence the number." Behind the eye-obscuring implements, Gendo squinted. He could have stopped right at two others, but he went on, for some reason. He was not usually that verbose in his explanations. Perhaps his subconscious had decided to alter the strategy.

Asuka's dark blue eyes drifted back to the Evangelion, which held the same expression as before, and maybe always. "You want me to pilot this," she said, adding quietly, "For you?"

Gendo smirked, sensing imminent confrontation. "Correct."

The girl's eyes flitted back to their previous position, seeming to observe her father's face behind the defense of his unnecessary lenses. Again, Fuyutsuki saw the fire he had observed the first time he had seen her since that day so long ago. What was lurking in that quiet soul?

"You abandoned me, father," she nearly spat out, saying the last word with particular distaste. Her nausea had come back in full force, but she was too angry to worry. All fears had been discarded for the sake of unabashed hate and the contemplation of violence.

Gendo continued to smirk. Now, more than ever, he saw his own self in his child's eyes. It was sickeningly beautiful.

"You left me back there," Asuka was shaking now, "And now, after all this time, you summon me," she laughed derisively. "Not ask me, but summon me, to this place, to pilot that..." she trailed off as she gestured angrily toward the purple EVA sitting outside. It's look was sympathetic now, though it couldn't possibly be. Its face was made of solid armor, but even so, it was telling her that it understood, with an expression that spoke of pain unequaled on the Earth. A living God... Imprisoned, given life when it should never have had it, and imprisoned. Abomination of all abominations. An Angel with a human soul. And it was not alone.

Yet Asuka did not understand. She felt something for the beast, but she did not know what. She knew not the story of its creation, of its mind, its core, but that didn't matter. It looked at her, and into her, and comforted her. The Unit had a mother's loving face behind its armor.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" the girl whispered through bared teeth, clenching her jaw tightly shut. "You can't be serious."

Gendo let his arms fall to his sides. He had expected blind fury, and was prepared to deal with it. But in some unspeakable way, this was different. How, then, to deal with it in the best way? "There is an enemy greater than any we have ever known. NERV is the only defense against them. The Evangelions are our only weapon."

Asuka closed her eyes, trying to restrain herself. "Find someone else," she muttered.

The Commander's eyebrow furrowed ever-so-slightly. "There can be no one else. Unit 01 would be useless in any other hands." He almost meant that. "The others are insufficient. You are a necessary-"

"What?" Asuka cut him off. Her eyes flew open, releasing a few watery tears. She turned, slowly, to face her father again, feeling something she had never felt before. "You need me? Now? So what? So you can use me until I'm nothing? Or are you just looking forward to making up for lost time?" she paused, as if trying to collect herself, and failing. "Would it have killed you to show up for my birthday, or for Christmas, or for anything at all, just on some pointless day... A visit, for a moment, to let me know that you still knew I existed..." there was no sadness in her voice, only a hurt so immense that it could have crushed the Angels themselves.

Fuyutsuki covered his face. After Second Impact he could never cry again, but that girl could make him want to very badly. Her pain was moving. It was too intense to be contained in words.

"I thought you didn't want me anymore," she continued, still watching her father intently. It was not malice per se, but rather a wish to be heard. To be listened to. And now that she was needed, for whatever reason, she had the bastard on the ropes. "After mom died, I didn't have anyone else but you. Only you," she laughed again. "And now it's the other way around. Now you don't have anyone else but me."

Gendo's smirk had vanished. His child was being troublesome.

Asuka wiped her eyes. They burned and stung, but she didn't care. She had to go on. "Well you know what? I don't care what the hell you want. You want me to pilot a goddamn giant robot and save humanity?" she stole a quick glance at Unit 01. Righteous anger graced its face. "Go to hell. If you started apologizing right now you wouldn't finish until the end of time."

The Commander shot her a look that said "Are you finished", which was answered only by a blank stare. He took that to mean that it was his turn.

"Fuyutsuki," he snapped, shaking the old man from his reverie. "Wake the First."

The Professor complied, stepping to a nearby terminal and typing in a few commands. A solid black replaced the view of the EVA cages as the crystals embedded in the display glass realigned. Several seconds later, a face blinked into being, right in front of Asuka. She gasped in surprise. Gendo smirked again.

A white-haired boy with bandages wrapped around his head and his right eye smiled at the brown-haired newcomer. His other eye was colored a deep, imposing red, which made a frightening first impression. His expression, however, more than made up for it. Were Asuka in a better mood, she might even find him cute.

Gendo straightened his glasses. The scenario would progress according to his plans. There was no room for deviations. Everything would work without fail.

The white-haired boy sat up in his hospital bed with some difficulty, raising his head to the hastily-erected camera. His smile grew even wider as he surveyed the plain girl displayed on the screen at his end. With nary a hesitation, he opened his mouth, and said, "I'm Kaworu. Kaworu Nagisa. Pleased to meet you."


End file.
